Chapter Forty-Nine
A s we lay there, I wondered what he was keeping from me. There was a reason he needed me to meet their king, his father, as soon as possible. Likely also more information about Mia and Xavier he did not wish me to know just yet. Some sort of timeline existed in his mind, one that determined when I would be afforded such secrets.
I turned around to face him, our bodies pressed together firmly. His eyes were pink, a slight puff to them. I wanted to believe that things between us had changed, that we would become a team. But that was not true, not while so many untold truths lingered between us.
“Is it safe to assume the sex was not so terrible it made you cry?” I asked, aiming for a laugh. His eyes grew wide, as if in panic. He grabbed my chin tilting my head up to his fully.
“I have been dreaming of doing that since the moment I laid my eyes on you, and it was far better than I could have ever imagined,” he said, voice raspy and tone earnest.
“Then why?” My voice broke on the words, my pain surfacing. I had not fully forgiven him for what he had done, the way he had taken me, but I knew I would be able to if he only told me the truth now.
“Some things should not be known, and this is one of those things. Can you trust that I would tell you if I thought it could be of help?” he asked, bright eyes searching my own.
I wanted to tell him yes, but I did not believe him. There was so much I deserved to know that he would not tell me. The why did not matter when I was being actively denied information that I knew with every fiber of my being involved me. Even knowing that to be true, I nodded, changing the subject.
With my choice now made, we would have very little time together. I did not wish to spend it arguing.
Instead, I offered up my own truths, horribly ugly ones that I had never wanted him to know. Still, I gave and gave, hoping he too would give someday. I told him of each body I watched slump to the floor, shared with him the times I tortured fae into admitting their crimes, spoke of the many lies I told to hide my transgressions.
Finally, I told him about Sipho, through shuddering cries and hiccupping sobs. He held me the entire time, and when I finished, he kissed the amethyst on my neck.
“He will always be with you, Asher. Never will he leave you and never will he blame you. Think of him every day. Do not forget how beautiful that love was, how it shaped and remade you,” he said.
I thought of the sound the chain had made as it snapped off Sipho’s neck, my hand clutching the amethyst while I flew through the air.
We lay there awhile longer, and then he told me more stories of his days when he felt lost, when he killed simply to kill. He shared tales of fear and hatred, told me of how little he felt he deserved in life. I reassured him, kissing away his frown, begging him to understand how much he mattered to this broken world.
When neither of us felt like talking further, we made love. Not the frantic sex from earlier, but a slow and gentle joining. We savored each other.
“Why do your tattoos move?” I asked after we had caught our breath, tracing my fingers along the now still lines. He shook his head, sighing at my curiosity. I had a feeling that for as long as he knew me, I would be able to pull those glorious sighs from him, an annoyance until the very end. The thought made me smile despite his clear refusal to tell me.
“Next question,” he answered. I huffed at him, pulling away my hand. Then a brilliant question came to mind.
“Fine, will you tell me what your super secret magic is?” I asked, smirking up at him. His brows furrowed for a moment, then at once his face went from confused to amused. He rolled his eyes, placing a soft kiss to my nose.
“Why is it that my initial instinct upon hearing that question is to throttle Henry?” he inquired.
I laughed at his tone, silky from the intimacy but also light from the humor. It was strange, feeling so content while simultaneously spiraling. A part of me drowned in guilt for enjoying myself when I knew so many others suffered. When I knew of the wrongs being committed by the fae royals. Another attempted to peel apart Bellamy’s lies and evasions, to piece together what he was hiding. And then there was the part of me that seemed to hum at his touch, to settle into him like I had been made to lay there.
“Likely because he is the only one of your little Trusted that is willing to share any information other than, ‘today we will be riding a horse, Asher’ or ‘did you know that the sky is blue, Asher?’” I remarked. He barked a laugh, the sound echoing back at us from the depths of the cave. “You are unnervingly joyous.”
“I was not aware it was a crime to be happy, Princess,” he teased. I eyed him with suspicion, not quite sure what to make of this sudden change in mood. Bellamy merely rolled his eyes again, flicking my nose before speaking. “Honey Tongue.”
Furrowing my eyebrows, I regarded his smirk and light tone.
“Is that supposed to be pillow talk? If so, I prefer something more interesting when referencing my talented mouth. Such as goddess lips,” I quipped. Another throaty laugh, and then he was kissing me. I reciprocated, questioning how I ever refused him, how I ever denied myself this pleasure.
When we parted, our breath was once again uneven, the air charged. But I wanted answers. I deserved them. He seemed to understand my thoughts, because with a rather dramatic sigh, he leaned back.
“Honey tongue is the magic that is passed down between demon royals. Asta, whom I imagine Henry must have told you about, had a rather impressive talent. She was able to sway beings with her words. When she spoke, everyone followed. Sometimes it would take convincing, other times it would fail, but more often than not it was as if her voice was hypnotizing those she spoke to. They usually relented, submitting to her will. Many even questioned whether or not she had seduced Zohar, though he adamantly fought the rumor. At least, that is what our history says. Truthfully, I do not believe she did. While the magic is not infallible, Honey Tongues are still considered quite dangerous,” he explained.
Perhaps it was the realist in me, but I could not prevent myself from wondering if Bellamy had used that very magic on me. Was I being slowly seduced by his words? Could someone like me, with an ability to control minds, be overpowered in that way? He did always seem to have an affinity for captivating me.
Regardless of whether or not he had used that magic to sway my mind, I knew now why he was able to block me. Because he had grown up with a father, and likely a grandfather, who possessed the kind of magic that required mental blocking. Not to the extent in which my power called for, but still necessary.
“Before you ask, no, I have not swayed you in any way. I know I have said to use every power in your arsenal, but I do not believe in stripping someone of their right to choice without cause. I would never, ever do that to you,” he swore, his tone far more serious than it had been before.
I nodded, feeling guilt rise at the way I had done that very thing. No words could take back the sins I had committed, but I could be better. I would be better.
After a moment, Bellamy kissed me. Though impossibly tired, we came together again. It was rough and hasty, our attempt to show each other just how deep our love went.
We got dressed after—me putting on his tunic with my cloak over top to avoid the buttonless trousers—and when we were finished, he portaled us back to the campsite. Right into his waiting tent.
Without so much as a second thought, he grabbed me by the waist and pulled me down onto his cot, settling the two of us together before covering our bodies with his quilts and fur.
“Rest, Princess. Tomorrow we travel to The Royal City. But tonight, I ask that you sleep here in my arms, where I promise to keep you safe for as long as I live,” he said against my head, fingers dragging through my hair.
I nestled deeper into him, my head against his chest and my arms around him.
“Forever,” I whispered, my eyes fluttering closed. “I will keep you all safe, forever.”
I thought of Sipho, how he had once held me the same way, promised me the same things. The warmth of the demon prince and that feeling of rightness that still hummed in my chest allowed me to dream of joy for the first time in so long. Of beautiful memories rather than terrifying futures.
“Hello, Ash,” Sipho said as he approached me, the hood of his cloak not able to hide the dazzling flash of white teeth and full lips.
My breath hitched, and suddenly the autumn night felt incredibly warm. He was stunning, as always. He walked with the confidence of someone who knew their worth and would accept no less.
Trying to remain calm and mysterious, perhaps even sexy, I simply gave a small nod of my head. “Sipho.”
His smile turned devious, the moonlight glinting off the amethyst at his neck, a piece of jewelry I had marveled at more than once. It had been his mother’s, but when a demon attack led to her death, his father had gifted it to him. Admiring it up close had become a regular activity of mine, though I was not always afforded the chance to see it, or Sipho, daily.
“My sweet Asher, you look wonderful this evening.” Sipho sat down, pulling his hood back, our arms and thighs touching.
The lake in front of us was as black as the night, the grass below us cool. I wondered what he saw when he looked at the world around us. Did he too feel the unsettling calm of the dim light? The discomfort of the darkness?
His hand moved to my thigh, and I smirked at his infatuation. The male was not led by desire like the rest of the males in Academy. No, curiosity was his god. The slight sting of his power pulsed in my leg, and I could not help but peek in his mind as he worked.
Power radiated through him and into me, his thoughts racing through my healthy prognoses and searching for more. Where did my power come from? What limits existed? Why did I have it?
I laughed when nothing came up from his short assessment. He smiled back, not fazed by the failure, as usual. I feared he might be more upset if he did discover an answer to his questions. One less thing to obsess over.
“So disquisitive,” I murmured with a giggle.
At that, the male leaned over, placing a soft kiss to my lips. Everything about Sipho was wonderful, from his soft skin to his honey eyes to the perfect mess of his curly hair. I loved him. More than I had ever loved anything. He was the force that held me to the ground, to reality.
He had told me many times before that he loved me as well, though I knew he also feared me. In fact, his thoughts and inner turmoil told me that his terror outweighed his adoration for me. I did not mind though. I imagined I would always be feared, but at least he would also cherish me.
“One day, I will discover more about your power, and I believe it will help you. We all have a destiny, Asher, you more than any of us. Perhaps I will stand by your side as you follow it,” he whispered against my lips.
I smiled into the kiss, loving the way he inspired that hope which always seemed to find a way to evade me. Sipho believed I had a purpose even when I did not. No one else had ever made me feel worthy like he did. No amount of fear had kept him from me. Not the chance that our relationship could end in severe punishment, or even the possibility that I could hurt him with my strange and confusing power.
He was no Tomorrow, and neither was I. The future was not ours to see, especially since we could not tell Nicola or any Reader of our relationship. Still, we made promises of a lifetime together, and I knew he was being honest when he said it all. He truly believed we would be together until our last breath.
“You will always have a place at my side, Sipho. Now and forever.”
He broke the kiss, leaning back to look into my eyes. I felt the devotion then, his mind unknowingly projecting the emotion towards me. It was strong, feverish. I stared back, baffled at the turn his thoughts had taken. Though, mine had done the same, to be fair.
“I might not be worthy of being king, or even standing next to you, but I would follow you to the end. No matter what, Ash. I love you.”
We slowly stood, making our way to the wooded area on this side of the lake. There we made love, and through the night, Sipho held me, his fingers massaging my head and playing with my hair.
He whispered of theories and hopes and his love. We imagined a world in which we could be together openly. We talked of our future younglings, what they would look like and what power they would possess. We argued over names and both agreed that we would continue the conversation when the time came. We pictured a small cottage out on Isle Healer, one where Sipho could own a farm and I could read under the sun, leaving my title far behind.
He promised me forever, and in turn I promised it back.
Forever was so very short.